


113 - Reader is Dating Bondy When She Meets Van

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “can I request one where y/n is bondys gf but van fancies her”





	113 - Reader is Dating Bondy When She Meets Van

Bondy would be late, probably. Like always, you were early. One of the many opposite traits you and your boyfriend had. It was a wonder you'd made it to the six months mark. Other things that made it particularly noteworthy that you'd gotten that far: He'd not met your parents. You'd not met his friends. He detested all the music you liked. You hardly knew any of the bands he liked. Not sure exactly what he saw in you, nor you in him really, it was mostly a relationship formed out of convenience and obligation. You'd slept together at a house party, and felt that you owed each other at least a date. That was it. The romantic story of how you met Bondy. Pretending it came later, you wondered if the love ever would grow.

You moved the straw around in your empty glass, pushing the melting ice cubes into each other. Someone dropped onto the bar stool next to you. You looked up with a smile, expecting Bondy. It wasn't him. In the seat was a boy with brown hair, parted in the middle. He grinned, and his teeth were imperfect. Blue eyes. Light freckles. Black clothes. All charm.

"Hi!" he beamed.

"Hi," you replied cautiously.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be drinking alone," he said. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"Is that the best line you have? Because a pretty girl like me can do whatever she wants,"

"Didn't mean it like that. Sure you can. Just meant, can I buy you another?" he asked, not deterred.

"I'm waiting for someone." You didn't say 'I'm waiting for my boyfriend.' You should have, and you knew that. It would have made the boy with the very average pickup line leave. That should have been the goal, yet - you were only waiting for someone.

"I'll wait with you?" he said and called for the bartender. He ordered a drink and pointed to you. You looked at him for a second, then at the bartender. She was waiting impatiently. Giving in, you ordered. The boy seemed pleased. "You don't much look like you belong in here,"

"Um…" You were unsure if it was a compliment or an insult.

"No, like, that's good. This place is a dive." The drinks arrived, "No offence," he directed to the bartender. She shrugged like she agreed and walked away. "You look like you shower every day. Maybe twice a day,"

You laughed, "You don't?"

"Babe, I don't even know where I'm sleeping most nights, you know?" You gave him a confused look but he offered no further explanation for that one. "But you're dead gorgeous. Should be sitting at one of them fancy bars across town. With all the rich lads in suits,"

"Rich lads in suits aren't really my type, see,"

"Not your type," he repeated quietly, smirking and nodding his head. "What's your type then?"

"Ummm…" If you replied honestly, you'd probably be describing him, so you didn't. "Someone a bit weird, but clever, you know? Curly hair, but probably wears hats. I don't know…"

The boy narrowed his eyes, took a sip of his drink, and nodded. "Probably find a few people like that around these parts."

When you finished your drinks over shallow conversation in which you were both seemingly dancing around names, he asked if you wanted to play pool. Not knowing how, you said yes. He was a good teacher and took every opportunity to lean his body over yours to guide your hands along the pool cue. You were standing at the table laughing when you felt arms wrap around you and lips kiss your neck. The boy stood tall, having made his shot, and the look on his face told you what you'd suspected but were too afraid to ask.

"Hey," Bondy whispered in your ear.

"Hey," you replied, still looking over at the boy. At Van. If he'd said his name straight away, you would have known who he was.

"Mate!" Bondy greeted Van loudly, letting you go and walking around the table. "Been looking after my girl?"

Van hugged Bondy. "Yeah. Course."

You were losing the game and begged Bondy to take your place. Disappearing into the bathroom, you started to hyperventilate. Someone came out of one of the stalls - the bartender. As she washed her hands she asked if you were alright. You nodded in a lie and tried to wipe away the tears. She stood looking at you.

"You didn't do anything wrong? It's not like you knew that was Van,"

"How do-"

"They're here all the time. You need to calm down. You were just killin' time before John got here, yeah?"

When you couldn’t confirm that, the implication was that you were flirting, and if Bondy never showed up maybe it would have escalated. You were not a cheater, and never would be, but… Van's dimples under the harsh fluorescent light above the pool table. His cackling laugh. His gentle encouragement when you tried to hit a fucking ball with a stick. The bartender made a face, nodded, and left the room. You checked your makeup before returning to the table.

You had done well to keep yourself calm for the entire night you spent with Van and Bondy. Bondy had invited him to dinner and drinks, and Van even crashed on his couch. You put a blanket over him, and a glass of water on the coffee table before going to bed. You'd never done that for the other people who regularly crashed there. If Bondy noticed the special attention Van was getting, he didn't say anything.

…

A few weeks later, after restless sleep and nervous chewing of your nails, there was a party. You arrived with Bondy but lost him after thirty minutes. You were okay alone though. There was a fridge loaded with drinks and the kitchen table was covered in bowls of chips and party food. The music was good and people were happy. The house itself was kind of incredible; a small mansion, really. You wondered how Bondy knew someone with a house like that. As you wandered through the hallways, you found a back deck through a bedroom. The door was open, and as you stepped out into the dusk you realised why. Somebody had also found the deck, and they were stretched out on a sun lounge smoking. Van. 

When you walked through the door he looked over and sat up a little. "Hey. Sorry, I'll," you went to say that you'd leave. Let him have his alone time, or whatever he was doing.

"No. It's alright. Hi. Stay. Here," he replied, pulling a chair around next to him. You nodded and sat.

"So… what are you doing out here alone?"

"Don't know, actually. Just… needed a second?"

You nodded and looked out over the backyard. People were milling about, content and drunk. That was something safe to talk about. "You're not drinking?" you asked Van.

"Nah. Not feeling it. Happy with a smoke," he replied, shrugging. You didn't know him well. Your history was one night, and a couple of times since where you'd picked up Bondy's phone and made small talk with Van before handing it over. Even in those brief moments though, your stomach would flip. There was a large collection of bad photos and videos of Van, and you pretended you were interested in all the guys so that Bondy would show you everything. It felt wrong to be deceptive, but you thought maybe some problematic aspect of Van would surface, or a story that would make you hate him. It didn't happen though. So, you didn't know him well, but you felt like you did anyway. And something was off.

"Van, are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said slowly and unconvincingly. The same 'yeah' you'd give whenever someone said 'are you doing any better?'

"You know I know you're lying, right?" you replied. He looked over at you and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Can I ask you something?" You nodded. "If you weren't waiting for Bondy, weren't with him, and I'd bought you a drink and showed you how to play pool. What would have happened?" The words felt like poison, instantly making you feel ill and wrong and bad. Any chance you had of pretending all the love you should have had for Bondy wasn’t leaving your heart and settling in Van's died in that moment. Your foot started to tap nervously and involuntarily. Van's eyes flicked to it and back to you. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t be a lie, or be hurtful for someone. "Should I take it from the lack of reply that something would have happened?" Probably. You silently begged him to not continue. "Just 'cause I… I know it's fucked up but I can't stop thinkin' about you and maybe if I know I'm not crazy, and you felt it too, then I could just move on or whatever?"

Your nose was starting to tingle with potential crying. You bit your lip hard, trying to replace the emotional pain with something physical and tangible and controllable. Your body gave you away as your head started to shake no. "You're not crazy. I felt it too," you whispered, not looking at Van.

"I'm sorry!" he replied immediately, sitting up to be on the edge of the lounge.

"It's not your fault. I… I've got to go."

He let you leave without saying anything else. You ran through the house until you found Bondy. You collapsed onto the couch next to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and asked if you were alright. You lied.

…

"I think Van has a crush on you," Bondy said about a week later as you sat around in his living room wasting time. You looked over at him and made a face. "Yeah. He asks about you loads. Goes weird when I talk about you, though,"

"Okay?" you replied. Bondy didn't say anything more. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. You must have just made a good impression that first night," he spoke carefully, and it was calculated. "Before I got there, you know?"

Was it your paranoia making it seem like Bondy was suspicious of you? Had he realised you too had been different since meeting Van?

"Lucky you're not the jealous type," you joked. Bondy made a 'hmmm' sound and changed the subject.

…

When it rains, it pours. The day you found out your cousin was sick, Bondy wasn't answering his phone. You needed comfort and someone to hold you. You called all his friends, looking for him. Eventually Lou picked up and said that Bondy went to Van's to try and build a guitar with him. You called Larry first, but he wasn't home; said Bondy was still there when he left. Instead of calling Van, you drove over there, crying.

You knocked on the cottage door. You'd picked Bondy up from there a few times, so you knew your way. You'd not been in though. The door opened as you were wiping your face on your sleeve. Van stood in the entrance. "Y/N? What's wrong? Come here," he said and pulled you into his arms. You crumbled.

It wasn't until you were curled up on Van's couch, covered in a blanket nursing a box of tissues, that you realised Bondy hadn't appeared. "Where's Bondy?" you asked.

"You just missed him. Want me to call him?"

"Phone's off," you replied.

Van wasn't stupid enough to think you'd come to seek comfort from him. Obviously you were there to see your boyfriend. But, in lieu of Bondy, you accepted Van's hand brushing the hair out of your face, and the cups of tea he made. He tried to get Bondy on the line, but nobody knew where he went. Probably just home. Van left him messages through everyone and every social media account he had. Eventually he settled on the floor next to the couch.

"I'm so, so sorry, Y/N," he whispered.

"It's okay. You don't need to be. Maybe she'll be alright. Good odds, they say,"

"Yeah. No matter what, I'll be here for you, yeah? I mean, like, we all will be."

It was almost midnight when Bondy came back. Larry and Van had made you dinner and tucked you into Van's bed for the night. Bondy crawled in next to you, and instead of being comforted, it felt like work.

…

Breaking up with Bondy was inevitable. You both knew that. He probably knew it from the moment he saw you watching Van across the pool table. You knew it long before that. It still sucked though. You loved Bondy as a friend, and the break up would have probably let you stay friends if there wasn't the added variable of Van. The whole thing would have been easier to cope with if you weren't stuck between sleepless nights and supporting your family in the hospital.

Van had called a couple of times but you didn't pick up. You answered his text messages with short replied. I'm alright. She's doing better. No, thank you. Anything to keep him away for a few more days. Then, a month after breaking up with Bondy, Van was on your doorstep. It was a little after 7pm and he was juggling bags. You stepped to the side and let him in. Following him through to your kitchen, he put the bags down.

"I hear Hayley's out tonight," he said about your housemate.

"How'd you hear that?"

"Asked her. She called me. Said you're not eating properly. Not sleeping. You need to look after yourself, Y/N. Can't help anyone if you're not okay," he said, looking over at you. It wasn't judgement, but it felt like it.

"What do you want, Van?"

"Nothing. I promise. I just… Let me make you something to eat?" You were too tired to argue. Sitting at the kitchen table, you directed him to where utensils and spices were. After you ate (the meal was warm and full of love and you could have cried) you let Van pull you up. "Do you want bed or T.V.?"

"T.V. in bed," and you started to walk to your bedroom. Van hesitated, then followed. The television in your room was still on from before he arrived, and you crawled into the unmade sheets of your bed. "Stay," you told him and moved the blankets to make room for him. He kicked off his shoes and hung his black denim jacket on your bed frame. Lying next to you, he was careful to leave space. But, you closed that quickly, resting your head on his chest and putting his arm around you. "Thank you,"

"You're welcome, babe. And, um… I asked… Bondy knows I'm here. Just so you know,"

"You asked permission?"

"Not so formally, but yeah, kind of. He's my best mate, you know? And you're his ex. Bit weird. But he's cool, really."

You wanted to ask 'cool with what?' so Van would be forced to say 'cool with us dating' and you'd know that was what was happening. It seemed like a manipulative thing to do, and you were done with deception and manipulation and hidden feelings.

"Do you think he'll be my friend again?" you asked.

"Yeah. I do. Maybe tomorrow we can get a drink with him?"

The 'we' in the sentence was enough. You fell asleep against Van, feeling a little better than you had hours before.

It was hard to say if you would have ended up with Van under different circumstances. If you'd been introduced directly to him by Bondy, would the chemistry have had a chance to start? If you never found him on the deck. If he'd not wanted to comfort you so much. Hard to say. But, regardless, it was the truest right outcome, and everyone could see that. As you walked hand in hand with Van through bars and clubs and houses, Bondy smiled, happy for you, and you winked at him playfully. It felt good to be good.


End file.
